In Man's Clothing
by Curlycurlz
Summary: Gaia Trebonia is the daughter of the suffect consul. She is young and fetching. She is useful... No; she is necessary. Caesar fic. Recently renovated, now complete!
1. I slip off his robe

_Dedicated to the performers in McGill University's _Julius Caesar_ cast (spring 2009), who inspired this story._

* * *

Gaia Trebonia enjoyed her status in the senate house. She was not particularly respected, to be sure; nor was she very well known, having never volunteered a single opinion during senate sessions. She was, however, the youngest, the most feminine, and consequentially the most frequently stared-at.

Her father was a serious man who expected the same behaviour out of his children. Trebonia was not serious. This wasn't out of any desire to rebel. She simply wasn't very bright, and saw no reason to pretend she was. Why disappoint people by promising them something different than what they were going to get? She hated when people were angry with her.

Yet, she was a senator. I am a senator, she would often mutter to herself at night in bed, or in front of the mirror. I am a senator of Rome, of the Republic! She looked breathtakingly fierce in her purple-striped toga, like Diana, she imagined, with her hair that wasn't gray and her face that wasn't lined. And in her head she would muse, I have power. This noble land is _at my mercy_.

Never aloud, she promised herself. Those who boasted aloud were exiled, and she didn't suppose her father would be thrilled should that transpire.

But silent boasts – Trebonia was comfortable with the fact that she herself was a manifested boast. "This is my daughter" – her father's voice, of course – "who is twenty years old, unimportant, and unremarkable in any way. Yet she is a Senator. She has power. This noble land is _at her mercy_. And why? Because I am suffect consul, and if I wish to install an unconditional supporter in the senate house, I have that power!"

And really, how could anyone fault him that when it was an accepted fact that no one held any power but Julius Caesar?

Trebonia supposed her father and Caesar were friends. It was Caesar, after all, who had appointed her father in the first place, and they conversed easily at parties. Obviously, Caesar had the advantage of status, and nobody was closer to him than Marc Antony.

Antony.

If Trebonia was honest with herself – and she saw no reason not to be – it was because of Antony that she enjoyed her status in the senate house. For Antony was not a politician, but a soldier and a reveler, and in the senate house, there were no gilded ingénues to amuse him, no fair Gallias or brown Nubians in bondage. There were no actresses or expensive skinny whores, nobody for Antony to stare at but for one: Trebonia.

And stare he did, with his satyric grin that made her grin in kind, his piercing violent eyes whose gaze was impossible to hold, his war-hewen arms evident even through the loose linen that made her imagine and blush. Did he want her? Trebonia pored over this question at night with a strip of sheet pressed between her thighs.

The obvious answer was a "yes", though a conditional one. Trebonia had been to more than a few senate parties where, with the absence of musicians or dancers to pinch, the pinches had landed instead on her own buttocks. But of course, under her father's unyielding gaze it was necessary that such pinches remained occasional, secret, and not reacted to.

So Antony wanted her as he wanted an untouchable whore. This did not bother Trebonia.

Her father frequently took wine at night with his colleagues, and he expected her to make a short appearance. Lately, though, as Caius Cassius' visits had begun to increase, Trebonius had been ordering her to remain away. This suited Trebonia, for Cassius was shifty and angry and always ignored her anyway.

It occurred to her that something conspiratorial might be afoot, but instinct cautioned her to refrain from revealing her suspicion. Even during her short time in politics she had witnessed more than a few exiles and executions and did not wish to be added to the number. If Caesar ordered, not even suffect consul could hope to overturn. And though Trebonius loved his children, he was a serious man.

Thirteen days into the third month, Cassius visited again after an absence of a week. Trebonia had been passing through the atrium as he entered, so she engaged in the expected courtesy conversation – a difficult task, due to Cassius' burning eyes, shifting hands and stiff tongue – and turned to leave, but her father blocked her exit.

"Tonight, Gaia, we require your presence."

Unsure, Trebonia followed the two not into the dining room, as she expected, nor the garden, but her father's private quarters. Servants brought wine and were dismissed, the door was locked, and curtains were drawn over the door and window.

Three chairs were positioned around a small table, and Trebonia reluctantly took the third. Her suspicions of conspiracy were confirmed now, and as her heart began to pound, she fought preemptively to prevent her lip from trembling.

"Trebonius" – it was customary that female senators were referred to by the male variant of their names – "Trebonius, your hand is required in our conspiracy."

And there it was, point-blank, like a slap in the face. _"Your hand is required."_

Trebonius surveyed her sternly. "Gaia, accept." Desperate, she shot a helpless glance at him. Her bottom lip tensed. "Gaia, Cassius is offering you a chance to aid in saving the republic. _You must accept_."

Trebonia spoke, mainly to keep her lip still. "What conspiracy? What must I do?"

Her father glared.

"You will know nothing until you accept," spat Cassius.

"Gaia…"

It was the warning tone in her father's voice that decided it, for in that moment, Trebonius was not the man she had lived with her whole life; he was the man who had stilled dozens of Gallic hearts and had once snapped the neck of a Greek slave in front of her.

"I accept," she whispered.

Before she could react, Cassius had grabbed her fingers, pinned her forearm next to his body with his elbow, and slashed the heel of her hand with a tiny blade. She gasped as the blood began to flow and instinctively struggled to pull back, but Cassius' thin arm held more strength than it showed. He used the knife to pry open a similar wound on his own right hand and pressed their twin gashes together.

"I invoke Pluto in our pledge of conspiracy," he intoned. "Let us be true and constant. Let us work for the good of the Republic. Let us restore peace and prosperity." Mechanically, he released her hand and began to wrap his own in a length of linen pulled from the folds of his toga. Trebonius took hers and did the same.

Trebonia's lip was now trembling unceasingly, to the point where she did not believe she could stop it.

"Now you are one of the faction," said Cassius. "You may know."

The questions she had had were quite forgotten.

"The plebeians mean to crown Caesar as King. This cannot happen. The Republic will fall, Rome will fail and we shall never be free."

Tenderly, Trebonius tied off the linen and cupped his daughter's hand in his own. His eyes were soft and proud.

This moment between father and daughter, predictably, went unnoticed by Cassius. "We mean to perform a tyrannicide imminently, on the senate floor."

Dully, Trebonia raised her eyes to meet Cassius'. "Kill him?" Cassius nodded. She turned back towards her father. "And I am to work in your place?"

"Gaia, be assured, I am as much a member as you are." He revealed an identical scabbed line across his own right hand that Trebonia had not noticed; she supposed Cassius had spent his rhetoric already on her father. "But they do not need a useless old man. You, with your youth and capability, are what they require."

For a moment, Trebonia meant to mutter an assent, but realized the reddening bandage spoke for her.

"Trebonius." After a few seconds, she realized Cassius was addressing her. "I must tell you, we are singularly devoted to the goal and value secrecy above all. We are also each of us powerful and wealthy, as you know. If word of your disloyalty reaches our ears – and if it exists, it will – we shall remove the risk."

Trebonia gasped once again and glanced at her father, who nodded grimly.

"Your first test of loyalty will take place tomorrow night. We assemble promptly at half past the stroke of two at the villa of the Junii. Be not late, or we shall assume you have turned."

Tense, Trebonia bowed her head. Trebonius cleared his throat.

"Cassius, I believe we are done. If you will with me to the front door, we have more to discuss. Gaia, to bed with you."

Trebonius locked the door behind them as they exited. Obediently, Trebonia went forth in the direction of her room as the men paced and muttered towards the front doors. She didn't remove her dress, though, or brush out her hair; instead she sat staring at her pale, trembling reflection.

"I am a senator," she tried.

A knock preceded her father into the room. Respectfully, she stood as he walked toward her with open arms. They embraced, a gesture that had been unfamiliar to them since Trebonia's childhood.

"I am honoured to be your father."

Trebonia tried not to sob into his tunic.

* * *

_Please review. If you enjoyed it, set an alert. Updates will be weekly._


	2. He slides his hand up my thigh

Even the Palatine Hill was an unsavoury place at night. Beggars crouched out of sight of the armed guards and mangy-looking dogs patrolled, coolly undermining the reign of humans. With her hood covering her face and a cloak hiding the curves of her body, Trebonia had completely disguised her feminine frailty; nevertheless, her heart pounded in her throat as she tried to keep her feet from running.

She nearly cried out and bolted at the sound of footsteps behind her, but forced herself to breathe and appear calm; the residence of the Junii was within sight now, and if she could make it to the front door she would be safe. As she advanced, however, so did the pair of footsteps; they crept upon her closer and quicker until –

A figure similarly attired glided past her and slipped through the Junii gate. Trebonia sighed with relief and followed, arriving in the middle of a group of four equally faceless figures. They welcomed her with absolute stillness. Taking a cue from their silence, she said nothing.

One of the figures approached her, grasped the edges of her hood, and pressed his face under it. Cassius' sour features were recognizable to her in the moonlight, and wordlessly he nodded and tugged her hood back down. _No names, no voices, no faces_, she thought.

One more arrived and was identified in the same manner, and then Cassius approached the door and knocked. After a minute, a young, exhausted-looking eunuch answered. "Sirs, I cannot admit you. Come back in the morning, for my master is asleep."

"Your master expects us," whispered Cassius, retreating with the boy inside the house while motioning for the rest to remain.

Long, awkward minutes passed. Trebonia knew not whom she stood with, and felt like the least informed present. Every second increased her feelings of foreboding and her desire to turn and run, but Cassius' threat – _remove_ – kept her still.

The door opened, a hand ushered them in, and suddenly they were moving through taper-lit splendour. Despite her fear, Trebonia couldn't help but be impressed by their location; after all, the Junii were one of the if not _the_ oldest and noblest patrician families, having instituted the republic…

The republic they were now trying to save?

Trebonia shivered and her mind returned to the present.

She recognized the shadowy form of Brutus as soon as they entered the garden. It was strange, akin to seeing one's teacher outside the school, to view him in such casual repose. As though rehearsed, they fanned throughout the garden in a militant semi-circle. Cassius approached her first and indicated for her to remove her hood.

"This is Trebonius."

"She is welcome hither."

His eyes were dark, and so tortured that Trebonia found herself quite unable to breathe until he looked away.

* * *

They agreed to meet five hours hence at Caesar's villa and filed out, clasping hands with Brutus as they went. The streets were all the more dark and foreboding as the conspirators went on their way; thus, despite herself, Trebonia was glad when it appeared that Cassius was to follow her home.

Trebonius was waiting for them in the atrium when they returned. Wordlessly, he directed them back towards his study, and once again barricaded the three of them inside. Only then did Trebonia and Cassius remove their hoods. "Well?"

Trebonia glanced at Cassius, who spoke first. "Tomorrow we meet at the eighth hour to bring Caesar to the Capitol. Upon arriving our course will begin immediately."

Trebonius nodded approvingly. "You have given my suit to Decius to present?"

"Yes."

"Good." He paced for a moment, during which Cassius shot a glare in Trebonia's direction. "We have not discussed what is to be done with Antony."

Trebonia blushed as Cassius answered spitefully, "We did so tonight. He _lives_."

"_Lives_?" Trebonius rounded on the two. "Young you may be, but surely not so ignorant…"

"Brutus does not think it wise."

"One man cannot make a decision! Someone agreed with him; who?"

Cassius stared at Trebonia, who tensed. "I decided nothing!"

Trebonius held up his hand. "Gaia, did you speak?"

"I..."

"The _one_ time your uselessness is an asset to you, this is when you choose to _open your mouth_? That is idiocy enough, but to... _defend Antony_!"

Cassius caught his arm before he slapped her. "Peace, Trebonius. We need a plan."

Trebonius growled and overturned his chair in anger. "Your ignorance may have disastrous consequences! My own daughter…" He grabbed her hair and held her face inches from his own. "You will go now to Brutus' house and…"

"Trebonius, it is done. There is no swaying him now."

"Jupiter's _cock_!" Trebonia had never heard her father swear so. "How are we to disarm him long enough?"

Cassius' gaze passed from father to daughter. "I've an idea. Your daughter is of a pretty age, and I know Antony has been lonely for quite some time…"

Trebonia's gut clenched.

"_My _daughter?"

"For the republic," Cassius amended.

Trebonius looked thoughtful.

As dawn approached, Trebonia sat by her mirror, trying to concentrate on fixing her hair to flatter her face. The deed had not yet been done, and already she felt dirty and traitorous.

"I am a senator."

The words meant nothing anymore; she tried again.

"I will restore the republic."

There was only one thought in her that was true and easy, and she latched onto it with all her strength.

_Antony._

* * *

Made some edits - namely, I slashed and burned the Conspirators scene. I realized that, if Trebonius is a totally boring and superfluous senator in the text, there's not much that can be done to beef "her" up without building a whole new context.

Anyway... like, review?

-Curly


	3. For the Republic

Trebonia's body felt unsteady. She couldn't move with ease, and when she did move her motions were flailing. She couldn't eat, and her teeth chattered when she pressed them together. Urgently, she gulped water to try to calm her stomach.

Her father surveyed her appearance with satisfaction. She had used the curling rods on her hair to great affect, and the lightest touch of arsenic powder on her face for an angelic glow. She didn't suppose any woman had dared wear makeup in the senate house before her.

"You look beautiful."

Trebonia silently pleaded for him to tell her she had done enough, that she need not humiliate herself, that he would protect her from Cassius' threat – but naturally he did not heed. Once more, he embraced her, and she fought tears.

"For the republic," he murmured.

"Father…" She wasn't sure what she meant to say, and surprised herself. "Will I die?"

His pause was too long.

"It is not likely."

"But not impossible," she pressed.

He did not reply.

The faction assembled at Caesar's home. No face betrayed the same fear Trebonia felt, and she wondered if any feared at all.

The doors of the Julii residence were thrown open and the purple-striped crowd moved into the Atrium, each clasping hands with Caesar. He was a jovial man, thought Trebonia wildly; was he really such a threat?

Through the doors bounded Antony, brushing senators aside to embrace Caesar. The men laughed as only the best of friends could, and their mirth was infectious; Trebonia was driven to grin despite her apprehension.

Having hung back, she was last to greet Caesar, who shocked her by naming her. "What, Trebonius!" She rejoiced, despite herself, at having been remembered. "Remember that you call on me today; I have an hour's talk in store for you. Be near me that I may remember you."

_An hour's talk_? "Caesar, I will," she managed, before moving past him to join the rest. Before she reached the group, though, Cassius caught her eye and motioned with her head to where Antony chatted with a surly-looking Calpurnia. Gingerly, she approached and accepted wine. She turned to Antony and opened her mouth to speak, but Antony cut her off with a snake-like hand around her waist.

"Well, Trebonius," he murmured, drawing out the "s", making her modified name sound feminine. She blushed.

"Antony," she replied, bowing her head slightly; he caught her chin with his fingers and met her eye.

"Find me today in the senate house."

Before she could respond, or rather, before her lack of a response became clear, Antony's arm guided her along with the rest of the company to the door.

Manic cheers from the plebeians accompanied their procession in the Forum. Rose petals were tossed over their heads. Antony picked a few out of Trebonia's hair and blew them into her face. She tried many times to meet his eye, yet continually she blushed and turned like a schoolgirl.

Almost immediately upon entering the senate house, lobbyists fell upon Caesar, as was customary. His aides collected petitions and kept the crowd at bay; one, however, seemed demented in her efforts. The conspirators shared anxious glances as Decius attempted to block her; eventually, Publius, ignorant to the scheme though he was, removed her bodily from the vicinity.

"Stay close to me," whispered Antony as he approached Caesar. The men whispered and shared grins, and when they turned and looked her up and down in unison, she realized she was the subject of their privacy. As she instinctively looked away, she caught the gaze of Cassius, and realized her time; gingerly, she laid a hand on Antony's shoulder and bent toward his ear.

"Shall we?"

Antony conferred with Caesar, who nodded; and with Trebonia leading and Antony following, the two exited the senate.

A small alcove in the corridor had recently been vacated of a bust of Pompey and remained empty; it was into here that the illicit couple wedged themselves. Antony ran his hands over her face and through her hair, inhaling and smelling shamelessly.

"I have never had a senator," he remarked, "though I have wanted. A woman in man's clothes is strange, enticing." His tongue explored the curves of her ear and she wilted at its warmness. "Unfortunately, most female senators could be mistaken for males. But not you."

And then his tongue, tasting of wine and old meals, was in her mouth, running over the jagged row of teeth and the ridged palate. She fought not to gag.

"So silent, so ignorant. How fetching."

With surprising rapidity, he gathered her shift up into his hands and slipped them under the hem. With the heel of his hands he kneaded her young breasts upwards.

"Better than expected."

He was forceful; she winced. He laughed softly. One hand continued kneading while the other traced a line down her soft stomach, cupped her hair, pushed a finger into her warm canal. She felt the secretion – so involuntary – and, judging by the gleam in his eye, so did he. With his long-nailed digit, he traced a path backward and forward. _Was this supposed to hurt so?_ She bit her tongue and silently repeated Cassius' words: _For the Republic._

Smirking, he lifted his now-shiny finger to his mouth and drew it across his tongue. It was red; he had drawn blood.

His hand angrily moved from her breast to her hand, but her relief was only momentary. Roughly, he guided her hand down, past his waist, under his tunic, and over his phallus. Trebonia gasped. She had never seen a man's intimacy, much less felt; its weight rolled over her palm and off her fingers.

"Get on with it," he growled.

Tentatively, she began to massage, fighting gags as she discovered sweaty nooks in his anatomy. His hips shifted impatiently, but he responded, rising against her urgently.

And then, without warning, his hands pinned her shoulders against the wall with such force that her heels left the ground. She gasped with pain and shock. His hips pushed forward and she felt his hardness between her legs. Realization of what was to come hit her, and she ceased to breath. Using his hand, Antony guided them together and allowed gravity to do her work.

The first shock was such that Trebonia let loose a strangled cry. She would not allow it to go further, she would not, it would surely kill her, no republic was worth this pain…

Antony wrapped his hands under her knees and lifted her off the floor; something gave way and she fell onto him completely. This was worse, much worse. Each grunting thrust of Antony's elicited a low moan of anguish. She rested her head back on the wall, utterly limp. It would never end. Steely echoes and cries of pain ricocheted through her head in time with their rhythm. _Juno Venus Diana Minerva help me please help me._ She would have welcomed death.

Finally, with a great release, Antony's mass and all his juices slid out of her, leaving her empty and quivering.

Trebonia could barely stand when he released her. She felt torn and broken, and fluid dripped down her legs, collecting in her insteps. The shouting and clamouring persisted, ringing down the stone corridor. The faction had attacked.

"What have you done?"

Trebonia couldn't speak. All the rage of the battlefield was in his eyes. Antony lunged toward the senate, and Cassius' orders sprang to the fore.

"No!" She grabbed his arm, and though her grip was weak, she managed to shock him enough to still him.

"_You have a hand in this_?"

He raised a fist to strike her. Panicking, she swerved and reached for his sword hilt, shocking herself when it slid from the sheath on her command. Though the point of the blade wavered, it remained trained on Antony's throat. With a roar, he attempted to knock it aside, but she swung wildly and landed a slash on his forearm. His blood joined hers on the stone floor.

Within one second, he had assessed the situation: though he might have been able to overpower a weak and terrified girl, he would never manage with a roomful of angry and armed killers. Hissing, he bore down on her, brandishing a left horned hand; then, he turned and fled.

Trebonia slid down the wall and dissolved into a pile of twitches and trembles.


	4. And then

It had been weeks since the assassination, and Antony, true to form, had riled the city in anger against the conspirators. Brutus and Cassius had fled east and were raising legions to combat the new political alliance of Marc Antony, Gaius Octavian Caesar, and Marcus Amelius Lepidus. The city was unsafe for conspirators; a poet, Helvia Cinna, had been beaten to death by a mob for sharing a name with one of them. Fearful for his life, his daughter's and his family's, Trebonius had increased the guard around their house on the Palatine and made arrangements to escape the city by night.

One the eve of their departure, the family awoke to the sound of nightmares: men shouting, wood cracking, glass shattering. Trebonius, his wife, his two sons, and Trebonia were yanked out of bed and dragged down the hall in their bedclothes. Their attempts to escape were thwarted by knives at their backs.

The atrium was littered with the bodies of their guards and a few house slaves; more slaves still were seen escaping out the front door. Trebonius shouted at them to find help. They paid him no heed.

Finally, the family was packed into the kitchen and forced to sit on chairs. The sound of armour heralded a centurion's approach; the imposing red plume entered the room before he did. So, the thugs were under Antony's orders.

"Trebonius, for murder and treason against the Republic, you are sentenced to death and seizure of property," he intoned.

Trebonius' resolve was collapsing. "Take my property," he breathed. "Take whatever your master desires and more; yet have mercy on me and my family."

The centurion seemed to consider. "Anything?"

"_Everything_."

He tapped his jutting chin twice. "Spurius, check the list for Gaius Trebonius."

One of the thugs scanned a piece of parchment, looked up, and nodded. The centurion smiled and patted Marius, the youngest of the children, on the head.

"Very well." He began to pace a lazy circle about the room. "Marc Antony has designated your name as negotiable. You have until daybreak to remove yourself and your family from the city if you agree to leave all of your possessions behind."

Trebonia's mother burst into tears and her father fell to his knees. "Jupiter praise you and your good mercy," he effused, kissing the centurion's hand as he walked by.

"Thank you for being reasonable." His footsteps ceased directly behind Trebonia's chair. "Unfortunately he insisted on this one."

Trebonia didn't have time to scream before a blade scrambled her insides.

* * *

It might seem strange, to update and complete this story after so long. What's stranger is that I had it written, have had it written for years, and something always stopped me from uploading it. Then I went back and reread what I'd already put up, and I realized that where it ended (with Trebonia having done her part) seemed like a natural conclusion. What I had left un-uploaded was this epilogue, but also, before it, a whole write-down of that effing scene with all the monologues and handshakes and Brutus being a dumbass - but in my version, oh, you can't even conceive of how dumb it was. I know that now, but back then the only thing that stopped me was a little voice going _"Don't upload it, Curly. There are other, better things to do with your life and time."_ Seriously, you guys, so bad. This whole fic isn't exactly a bowl of roses, but that scene was, man, just a lot of trying and failing to contextualize Shakespearean dialogue.

This epilogue, however... I'm fond of it. I dunno. There's a reason Trebonius isn't given a lot to do during "her" scenes, and that's why my attempt at beefing out the character within said scenes was such a facepalmer (I SHOULD HAVE TRUSTED YOU, SHAKESY!), but making shit up for "her" to do is totally on the table. (You get it, don't you, Shakesy? You loved writing fanfics. And you were so good at it.)

Aw, hell. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review.

-Curly


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